Текст книги "Inherited Danger"

Автор книги: Brian Rathbone

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Benjin didn't harass her any further about it, and they rode in silence for a while, heading on a westerly course.

"Do you think we should make for Adderhold?" she asked, if for no other reason than to break the uncomfortable silence.

"I suppose we haven't much choice. There's little chance of us getting anywhere near the statue while it's being transported, though I'm not sure we have any chance of getting near it when it arrives at Adderhold either. We'd have to pass through lands held by your family and those held by their rivals, the Kytes. A more dangerous path I cannot imagine. Do you know what you will do when we get there?"

"I have no idea, but I must try. It would be cowardly of me to turn my back on these people. The people of the Greatland would pay the greatest price for the Zjhon's folly, and I cannot allow that to happen. I just hope we're right about the true nature of the statue. I can find no way to prove our beliefs or disprove the beliefs of the Zjhon. I suppose I'll have to act on faith alone."

"Blind faith," Benjin said.

"Blind faith, indeed," Catrin said. She hoped some other solution or some bit of proof that would allow her to believe more firmly would present itself, but none came.

Following a narrow cart path, they passed local farmers on their way. Folks waved as they passed, and they returned the waves, trying to appear as if they belonged there. Benjin urged Curly to pick up the pace. Curly would have none of it, though, and set his own pace, despite Benjin's clucks, chirps, and more than a few smacks on the rear with the lines.

As night fell, they entered more heavily settled lands, and the lights of a distant town shone on the horizon. Reflections of the lights could be seen in the wide river that lay on the far side of town. A copse of oak and elm stood on a nearby hill, and Benjin steered Curly toward it as best he could. Curly resisted his direction, and they nearly rode past the trees, but Benjin managed to get him stopped. At the bottom of the hill, Benjin handed Catrin the lines and climbed from the cart. After retrieving an ear of corn, he lured Curly into the trees.

Curly chewed noisily on the corn while Benjin tied him off to a tree. Once Curly was unhooked and taken care of, they set up a small camp and ate sparingly from their provisions. They lit no fire, for fear of drawing attention to themselves, and they spent a long night huddled together for warmth.

***

The following day was bright and clear, and the morning sun warmed the air enough that they could no longer see their own breath before them. The road into town was congested with wagons, carts, and hundreds on foot. Catrin and Benjin blended into the crowd as best they could and eventually made their way into town. The streets were jammed with pedestrians and roaming vendors. Curly was ill suited for such tight quarters. He stepped on toes and knocked over vendors' carts, leaving behind a trail of angry people wherever they went. Benjin sought out the market proper and spotted a man selling livestock.

"It'd be nice to ride all the way to Adderhold, but I think we should sell Curly while we can. Major bridges in the Greatland bear a toll, and we'll need coin to cross," he said.

Catrin didn't like the idea one bit, but she could think of no other way to get coin short of stealing, which she was unwilling to do. They approached the livestock vendor, and he appraised them as they moved closer. Catrin suspected he saw an easy profit as he moved into the crowd to great them.

"That beast has lived beyond its years, Yusef would say," he said, shaking his head. "Not fit for plow or plate. Don't think he can use that one. No, Yusef doesn't."

"These days there's little to be had," Benjin replied. "Most would be glad to have such a fine beast. P'haps there're others here who'd be more interested," he said, casting his gaze around the market. Catrin searched for other vendors selling livestock, and while she saw a few goats and a handful of chickens, no one else had large animals for sale.

"Try if you'd like, but anyone here'll tell you that Yusef is the man t'see," the vendor said as he spread his arms wide and bowed deeply.

"And what would Yusef offer for this fine beast and cart?"

"Yusef has no need for the cart, but he supposes he could dispose of it without a great deal of trouble. Yusef offers a silver."

"Good luck to you, Yusef," Benjin said, and he chirped to Curly, who completely ignored him.

"Don't be hasty now. A silver for a beast that appears to be deaf as well as blind is a fair offer, but Yusef is a generous man. A silver and two coppers."

"Three silvers."

"Three silvers! Why that's robbery, friend. Surely, Yusef deserves to eat. Two silvers."

"Three," Benjin said, and Yusef appeared wounded by his firm stance. He made no counteroffer; instead he just shook his head as if in deep thought. "Perhaps now is not the time to sell," Benjin continued. "Prices will only go higher as the pilgrimage begins, and we've nothing but time. Perhaps the traders in the next town will be more generous."

"Thieves, they are. Why, you would have to travel all the way to Adderhold to find a better offer, and even then you take your chances. You seem like good people, and Yusef has a soft place in his heart, he does. Three silvers."

Benjin climbed from the cart and shook his hand. "Deal."

As soon as the coins were in Benjin's hands, Yusef seemed to forget that he and Catrin existed, and he began hawking Curly as if he were a prize bull. "Who will give me five silvers for this fine beast? Full of vigor, he is, and Yusef'll even throw in this finely crafted cart," he shouted into the crowd even as they unloaded their packs.

While Catrin stuffed the blankets from the seat into her pack, the wind blew the hood away from her face, and she hastily pulled it back up. She and Benjin shuffled through the crowd, and Benjin continued to affect his limp and lean on the staff. It did him little good in the jostling crowd, and they were nearly knocked off their feet several times within the sea of people. The lack of respect these folks showed one another was remarkable. It was as if they were so great in number that none of them mattered as individuals. Each person was just another body congesting the streets.

A long line snaked away from the base of the bridge, and a dozen guards stood at the height of the span, holding up the mass of people crossing. Fear gripped Catrin at the sight of them, and she cast Benjin a furtive glance, but he seemed unconcerned.

"Toll collectors," he said, and his statement was confirmed as she watched the soldiers accept coins from each person who passed. They waited as patiently as they could in the line, but it moved dreadfully slowly, and Catrin began to see the wisdom in Benjin's decision to sell Curly. It would have been difficult to maneuver him through the crowd, not to mention the coin they needed to pay the toll.

When they reached the highest part of the span, they were packed tightly against the other people waiting to cross. The stone beneath Catrin's feet seemed to move from side to side, and she feared the bridge would collapse from the weight of so many people. Her feet sore from standing so long, she shifted from one to the other to ease the pain, but it provided only a small amount of relief.

The line continued to move inexorably forward, and the scrutiny of the guards drew ever closer. Catrin felt trapped. If the guards somehow realized who she was, she would have no way to escape. The crowd packed tightly on all sides, and panic threatened to relieve her of her sanity.

Benjin must have sensed her distress, for he took her hand and gave it a small squeeze. "Just a little farther, li'l miss. Hold on for a while longer, and this'll all be behind us. Try to imagine yourself in the middle of an open field," he said.

Catrin tried to take his advice, but the mass of energies around her assaulted her even with her eyes closed. She could sense them. She could feel their impatience. Their smell filled her nostrils, and she thought she might be sick. In an effort to stem off the nausea, she concentrated on her breathing, which had become short and rapid. Deep breaths probably would have settled her stomach if it were not for the smell of unwashed bodies.

When they finally reached the guards, Catrin's hair was soaked with sweat, and her hands trembled. Benjin approached a guard, who gave him a bored glance.

"Copper apiece," he said.

Benjin handed him a silver and pointed to himself and Catrin, as if he were mute. The guard was obviously disgusted to have to make change, and he sighed heavily as he dug in his pouch. After a moment, he produced a handful of coppers and shoved them into Benjin's hand.

"Next time bring coppers," he said and turned his attention to the next in line.

The line on the far side of the toll moved rapidly, and within a few short moments, they gained the far shore. Catrin sucked in the cool air as if she had been drowning, and Benjin dragged her off to one side.

"Calm yourself. We're not out of danger yet. There're more soldiers about."

"I'll be fine in a moment," she said, and she felt her panic begin to recede. They were across the bridge, and though she felt she was stepping from one precipice to another, she was almost accustomed to it; it had begun to feel normal.

***

Rats scurried at the edge of the torchlight, and the shadowy form of Chase's guide filled most of the dank tunnel they were following. The land surrounding New Moon Bay was riddled with sewers and passages, and this one was supposed to take Chase to a ship. After days of hiding in cellars and crawling through sewers, Chase was looking forward to being back at sea.

Very little had been said during his travels; Brother Vaughn had made most of the arrangements. Chase didn't even know the name of his guide or what ship he was being taken to, but he made himself keep walking despite the uncertainty. Catrin needed him, and he would not fail her.

The air became less foul as they walked and began to smell more of salt than sewage. When they reached the end of the tunnel, his guide simply pointed to a familiar-looking ship in the harbor and turned and walked back into the tunnel.

The water was far below the tunnel exit, and Chase stared down at the waves crashing on the rocks, hoping the water would be deep enough where he landed. Before his courage fled, he took a running leap into the harbor and struck the water hard. As he reached the surface, wiping the water from his eyes, he heard voices.

"Who goes there?" barked a gravelly voice.

Coming toward Chase was a small rowing craft filled with uniformed men. Taking a deep breath, he slipped beneath the dark water.

Chapter 20

Evil exists only in the hearts of men.

– -Ain Giest, Sleepless One

***

As he climbed back to the chamber atop the mountain, Nat's legs trembled from exertion as well as fear. Only the hope that he would learn something important kept him moving. Within the chamber, his visions became absolute, blotting out his current reality and showing what he thought were vivid glimpses of a likely future. Though they left him feeling nauseated and abused, he kept coming back, drawn by morbid fascination and the quest for knowledge.

Beside him, Neenya climbed, and her presence bolstered his confidence. Never before had someone shown such faith in him. As he slowly learned her language, all barriers between them seemed to fall. To trust someone so completely was a thing Nat had never believed himself capable of, but Neenya's unwavering dedication and loyalty made it impossible for him to feel otherwise.

Concern was clearly visible in her eyes as they reached the final stage of their climb, but there was something else there, something Nat could not easily define. It was acceptance, he finally decided, and he sighed. Though endeared by her devotion, Nat also felt the weight of responsibility. The Gunata, as Nat now knew the villagers called themselves, believed in him. They believed he had been sent to them to do something special, something important. Neenya had given her life over to him, leaving behind whatever it was she had done in the past, and Nat prayed he would not fail them.

When the chamber entrance came into view, Nat quailed. Only the needs of those who were depending on him drove him forward, and he practically fell into the chamber. As he crawled forward, drawing ragged breaths, the power of premonition obliterated all other thought.

Neenya held him in her arms, and when the vision finally released him, he looked into her eyes, tears streaming down his face. No words could express the horrors he'd seen, and as he pulled Neenya closer, he squeezed his eyes shut, praying that, just this once, his visions were untrue. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. His body shook in grief as his mind reconciled what he'd seen. As he wept, Neenya sang softly, rocking him to sleep.

***

The days merged into one long, miserable blur. Catrin could not recall how long it had been since they sold Curly, but the blisters on her feet spoke of more days than her memory could reconcile. They trudged along, surrounded by pilgrims who marched in morose silence. It wasn't a joyful journey for any of them; it was more like a death march. Like sheep to the slaughter, they put one foot in front of the other and nothing more. The people seemed to know they were going to their deaths, yet they continued.

Catrin despaired and wondered why they would leave their lives behind to seek out an idol. Even if the archmaster had mandated their presence, he was certainly in no position to enforce his edict, but they seemed not to care. From what Catrin sensed, most simply wished the misery to end.

The roads were churned to mud, at least until the snows came; then they froze, their texture sealed by frost. Ruts and frozen footprints threatened to turn their ankles, and illness began to spread. Catrin could not breathe through her nose, and a cough rattled in her chest. Benjin did what he could to secure dry places to camp and wood for fires, but the landscape was usually picked clean long before they arrived.

Large groups huddled together at night for the protection in their numbers, but Catrin and Benjin kept to themselves. They had no desire for the company, and those around them seemed to have no desire for the fellowship of strangers.

Occasionally they passed an inn, and the rosy glow that came from within beckoned to them, but Benjin insisted they save their coin for food, which was becoming increasingly expensive. Vendors took advantage of the massive migration and inflated their prices. Perhaps the shortage of food could explain away the cost increase, but Catrin resented it. She felt as if they preyed on the poor and hungry, and she detested them for it. Anger and spite were all that kept her going at times, and she used her fury to stay warm.

"You've not lost hope, have you?" Benjin asked at the end of another silent day.

Catrin remained mute for some time before answering. "Hope," she said. "Hope for what? A quick death? An end to the misery? I've no idea what to hope for. I cannot hope to save these people, and they cannot save themselves."

"Such thoughts will get you nowhere. There's always a chance that things will work out, and you're not the only one attempting to stop this madness. Others labor toward the same end, and we can only pray they've not given up," he said, but she continued to spiral into her own personal nightmare.

"Even if the statue is destroyed, what then? There are no crops in the fields. The food supply is already growing scarce, and disease is sure to follow. I begin to wonder if saving these poor wretches from a quick death is the right thing to do. If they'll only suffer slow deaths, then what good will I have done?"

"You act as if all is already lost, but the sun still shines and we still live and breathe. I, for one, plan to do whatever I can. I'll not give up until my last breath leaves my lips."

"Good luck to you, then," she said. "I'm tempted to simply lay down and die. I've no more to give, and this dreadful march will never end."

Benjin stopped and yanked her aside by her arm. His face was crimson, and she had never seen him so angry; he frightened her, and his grip was painful. "How dare you give up! Did your father teach you nothing? Anything worth doing is difficult, and this could not be more worthwhile. How could you expect it to be easy? You shame me." At one time, those words would have stung, but she simply shrugged.

"Who knows if my father is even alive? I doubt it. I'll never see him again, and if he wants to be disappointed, then let him. And that goes for you as well. Perhaps you would rather walk alone."

"It's tempting, but I'll not allow you to give up so easily. If I have to drag you by your ears, you'll fight, and you'll win, if only to spite me," he said, and a crooked smile actually tried to form on his lips.

Catrin couldn't fight him; he was right, and she knew it. That didn't make it any easier, but it did keep her moving. "You're right. I know, but I'm tired. So very tired."

"I know, li'l miss, but I'm here to help you. I'll always be right by your side. You can count on that," he said.

She leaned against him for support. "You amaze me. How can you stay positive amidst this horror?"

"It's not easy, and I'm not saying it is, but it's all in how you look at it. We could've been hung, or drowned, or burned a dozen times now. How did we survive those things? How are we still here to try? Hope, determination, and in some cases, sheer stubbornness."

"Well, that's one thing we have in abundance. If only we could eat it," she said and actually chuckled.

"There, you see? I told you we could do it. Laughter keeps the world alive, you know." And with that, they stepped a little lighter, marched a little faster, and the pain seemed to ease in Catrin's feet, as if it had been imposed by her despair rather than the endless footsteps. When an inn appeared on the horizon, Benjin led her toward it.

"But we should save our coin," she protested.

"One night's lodging won't break us, and I think we've earned a bit of respite. I'd also like to look for signs of the Vestrana." Their hopes were dashed when they arrived, though.

"Full up," the innkeeper said when they inquired about rooms, and the sheer number of folks jammed into the common room gave her statement credence. The rotund woman turned to tend other customers.

"Please miss. A stall in the stables, a bit of floor in the kitchens, we'll take whatever you can offer." The woman looked disgusted, but Benjin pleaded with his eyes.

"Two coppers and you can sleep in the loft with the rest of the fools," she said, and Benjin quickly pulled four coppers from his pouch.

"Might we get a bit of food to go with our lodging?"

"You're a pushy one," she said, but she accepted the coin. "Potato broth is all we have left, but this'll get you two bowls."

A thick layer of grease was congealed on top of the broth, and it tasted little better than laundry water, but it was warm and it felt good in Catrin's belly. They drained their bowls in short order, and the innkeeper had the stable boy show them to the loft. At the top of the ladder, they found mounds of flea-ridden straw, and there was barely a spot to be found that did not harbor a sleeping body. People cursed them as they wandered through the disorganized mass of humanity, but they eventually found a corner in which to lie down. Catrin pulled the blankets from her pack and prepared the best bed she could for them, and they laid themselves down to rest.

"You get some sleep," Benjin said. "I don't trust these folk not to rob us. I'll keep watch for now. I'll wake you later."

She would have argued, but his words were muffled by her wide yawn, and she let sleep claim her. When she woke, sunlight streamed through the cracks in the walls, and Benjin slept beside her, his belt knife still in his hand. When he woke, she saw that his purse and other valuables were beneath him. He was an intimidating figure, knife in hand, and she supposed that had been enough to keep any would-be thieves at bay.

The sun already high in the sky, they left the inn long after most of the others who had shared the loft with them. A small town lay ahead, and in many ways, it looked the same as every other town they had already passed. It made Catrin feel as if they had been walking in circles.

"We're nearing the western border of Astor," Benjin said as they entered the dirty little hamlet. "Soon we'll be in Mundleboro, the lands ruled by your mother's family. We'll have to be extra careful when we get there. Keep your hood up at all times. I've been searching for signs of the Vestrana, but the signals I've seen are conflicting. They are close to correct but include subtle warnings. I'm afraid to seek their aid since it seems they fear they've been infiltrated."

Walking past the smithy and shops, Benjin stopped at a storefront that displayed cured meats. Salted hams, smoked fish, and several strange reddish sausages hung under the watchful eye of the storekeeper.

"What'll you be needing?" the beady-eyed man asked, and it was clear he did not trust them. His look urged them to buy something or move on.

"How much for the pepper sausage?" Benjin asked.

"A silver."

"Why, that's robbery. Surely you cannot expect to get such a price?"

"Already have and will again. Take it or leave it," the man said, and he cleared the sword at his waist from its scabbard, daring them to steal it. They did not intend to stoop so low, but that price would consume most of the coin they had, and they still had a long journey ahead of them.

"Come on, li'l miss. Let us find a more pleasant thief to steal our coin," Benjin said.

The storekeeper spit at them as they left. The argument drew unwanted attention, and several people among the crowd stared at them as they turned away, as if they hoped for a fight to break out, if only to break the monotony.

At that moment, a chance wind gusted through the streets, and the hood was pulled from Catrin's face. As she rushed to pull it back up, she saw a woman who was as wide as she was tall, and she was walking toward them.

"Lady Lissa! What in all the gods' lands are you doing here? You were to be at Ravenhold weeks ago. And what have you done with your hair?" she asked as she approached, and Catrin looked about to see who she addressed, but then the woman stopped abruptly and her eyes went wide. She leaped across the short distance that separated them and grabbed Catrin by the arm.

"If you make a move," she said in a low voice, "I'll shout for the guards and label you thieves. Come with me quietly, and no one gets hurt. Understand?" Only then did Catrin feel the pressure of a cold blade against her back. Benjin stood, frozen, seemingly afraid the woman would run Catrin through. Without a word, they let the strange woman lead them into a nearby inn.

The common room was crowded, but no one paid them any mind except to curse them for pushing through the throng. The knife at her back urged her up the stairs, and they stopped before a sturdy wooden door at the end of the hall. This door was the only one to bear a lock, and the woman produced a key from the folds of her shawl. Within a moment they were inside, the door locked securely behind them.

"Don't think to lie to me. I'd know you even if you were burned from head to toe. You're Mangst as sure as Vestra shines," she said.

Benjin let out a heavy sigh. "Who are you?" he asked, and the woman wheeled on him with her knife.

"The questions are mine to ask. Never you mind who I am. The question is who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"That's a long story and not one easily explained," Benjin began, but the woman cut him short, literally; she sliced the air before him as if to demonstrate her skill with the knife.

"Shut your mouth. I'm not asking you. I ask her. What is your business here?"

"We're bound for Adderhold," Catrin said, unsure of what else to say. She decided a small bit of truth was all she was willing to give. She didn't even know who this woman was or what evil deed she suspected them of committing, but her patience was already worn thin.

"Lies," the woman said, and she punctuated her statement by tapping her slender blade on Catrin's chest. It was a move meant to threaten and cow her, but Catrin had had enough. She and Benjin had done nothing to deserve such treatment. With a quickness she didn't realize she possessed, she clasped the woman's wrist and twisted hard, driving her knee into the woman's groin. By the time the woman hit the floor, Catrin had the blade wedged between the woman's multiple chins.

"Easy now. Easy. Let's not get too excited. Let her up, li'l miss. We mean her no harm, and she means us none. This is all just a misunderstanding," Benjin said, but his words were ignored.

Catrin snarled at the woman, who now became the target of all her anger, all her resentment. Suddenly this woman was the source of all their troubles, and with one twist of her wrist, she would be gone. It would be so easy. The woman's flesh was soft and pale and would part easily before the razor-sharp blade.

Benjin grabbed Catrin's arm and pulled the knife away from the woman's throat, but he got no gratitude. The woman pulled another blade from her belt, and they all stood in suspense, assessing one another.

"Please, both of you. We can solve this peacefully. Put the blades away. Shedding each other's blood will help no one," Benjin said.

His words penetrated the haze of fury that still gripped Catrin. With obvious reluctance, she reversed the blade and handed it back to the woman, who seemed surprised.

"Now let us begin again. I'm Benjin Hawk," he said, and the woman's eyes grew wide again. "And this is Catrin Volker, daughter of Elsa Mangst."

His words might as well have been a physical blow for the effect they had on the woman. She fell back against the far wall, and her breathing became rapid. Catrin was shocked by his honesty.

"By the gods, it's true. Isn't it?" she asked with a hysterical glance at Catrin.

"He speaks the truth," Catrin said, and it was as much an accusation against Benjin as it was an affirmation. The woman sat down heavily and stared at them as if they were beyond explanation.

"You don't mean to kill me," the woman said, making it more a statement than a question, but Catrin felt the need to respond nonetheless.

"We never intended you any harm, but you certainly scared us," she said, and she was surprised to see the woman relax a bit and actually sheathe her blades.

"I am Millicent, maid to the Lady Mangst," the woman said, and now it was Benjin's turn to appear shocked.

"Millie? I didn't even recognize you."

"You need not tell me the years have been unkind; I am aware, but they've touched you as well," Millie said.

"You know each other?" Catrin asked.

"It's been many years," Benjin began before Millie cut him short.

"Since you and that scoundrel, Wendel, stole Elsa away from us."

"After all these years, you are still shortsighted, I see," Benjin said, but Millie ignored him.

"Let us speak no more. This matter should be taken up with the lady, not her lowly servant. I'll arrange for passage to Ravenhold. Be warned, if you try to escape, I'll have you hunted down and killed. Do I make myself clear?"

"You do, but your threats are unnecessary and insulting," Catrin said with an arch look, daring the woman to question her integrity again. Millie gave her a sidelong glance but said no more. Instead, she walked out the door, leaving them alone.

"This is not going to go well," Benjin said almost to himself.

"I assume my family will not be happy to see me?"

"Or me," he said, shaking his head.

"Well, let them be unhappy. I've no intention of staying long. You don't think they'll try to stop me, do you?"

"I don't know, li'l miss. I'd hoped to avoid them completely. They're not fond of me to begin with, and I have no idea how they will react to you, but I doubt they'll welcome you. Your mother's family are not the most forgiving people I've ever met."

Catrin asked him no more questions, knowing he would not have the answers. She supposed she would just have to take it up with the Lady Mangst-whoever that was. It bothered her a great deal that she didn't know, yet she decided not to ask. She would find out soon enough.

The room began to feel very small as she paced back and forth, and the air felt thick and heavy, as if she were breathing water. She did not know how long Millie had been gone, but it seemed like days, and when she finally returned, Catrin's patience was lost to her.

"We must leave at once," Millie said. "I was not to return for three more days, but this'll not wait. I've arranged a carriage for you. It waits in front of the inn. Come."

"Will you be joining us?" Catrin asked, uncertain of what exactly was taking place.

"I'll be traveling in a separate carriage, but they will travel together. So, yes, in a sense. Morif will act as your bodyguard and assure your safety."

In other words, Catrin thought, he would be their jailer, there only to make sure they did not try to escape. The fact bothered her greatly, but she put no voice to her misgivings, for she doubted it would do any good. Without another word, she and Benjin followed Millie from the inn.

As promised, two carriages waited, and they were like no carriages Catrin had ever seen before. Completely enclosed, with small doors in the side and smoky glass windows, their black finish shone in the sun, and even the wheels were spotless. Each one was drawn by a team of four horses, which appeared to be more for show than out of need. The carriages were large but not so large as to require more than one horse. The horses were obviously bred for looks; their coats gleamed, and their manes flowed. Their forelocks were so long that it was a wonder the horses could see anything. These were nothing like the horses her father raised, which were primarily workhorses, bred for power. And these were far showier than the horses of the Arghast tribes. It reminded Catrin of the townies, who used their horses primarily as a display of wealth, and the thought left a foul taste in her mouth.